Longing, Denied
by Solain Rhyo
Summary: Reffie fic - You can only deny longing for so long before it becomes unbearable ...


_**A/N: **I write this as a birthday gift for **Sabriel41**, a fantastic writer in her own right whom I think deserves the world for the occasion, or at least an attractive redheaded bishie jumping out of a three tiered chocolate cake … XD_

_Happy Birthday, Sabe!_

**xxx**

It was the game they always played – a subtle upturning of the lips or a flutter of an eye; a laugh made slightly too breathy or a word said with an intonation indiscernible to anybody but themselves. It was safer this way, to pretend that all that would ever be exchanged between them were playful pleasantries, for to try and achieve something deeper would undoubtedly lead to pain, to sorrow –something they both avoided for reasons so different yet so similar.

When he'd see her in Seventh Heaven, surrounded by friends he had admittedly at one point or another attempted to kill, he tried to harden himself against the wistful longing he felt as he watched her animated face light up with laughter at something the flower girl had said. He tried not to wish it was he toying with the short, uneven lengths of her short hair instead of the little girl who was the ward of the proprietor of the bar –the large black man with a wicked gun arm and an even wickeder temper. And when she was swept across the small dance floor in the arms of the barmaid turned warrior in a mockery of a gallant dance, he attempted to ignore the fact that he wanted to be holding her, that he wanted to know what her skin felt like between his fingers.

And likewise, when she would see him on occasion in the same bar, surrounded by his coworkers all bedecked in impeccable suits and expensive sunglasses, she would try to drown the irrational longing she felt to know him outside of the Turk he was. That was the crux of who their situation, after all –she was the spoiled princess of a far away land, and he the scourge of the city, employed by the resident corporate giant to do all the dirty work. And when she would watch him light up a cigarette, inhale, and promptly blow the smoke directly into the face of his large, intimidating and bald counterpart, she wished she was beside him to laugh at his antics.

Instead they existed separately, flirting from afar, an attraction having been sparked between them somewhere along the way. They couldn't voice it to their peers, nor could they embrace it; they were both from the "wrong side of the tracks", as it were. But they could both dream, and revel in what little exchanges they were allowed.

And for a time, it was enough.

One night, when winter had descended with a fury upon the city and what residents had dared ventured outdoors were huddled within the bar, she was sitting alone in a corner booth, morosely staring into the depths of her drink. He was seated on a stool at the bar, his companions engaged in a riotous game of pool, but it wasn't the game he was focused on. He watched her intently, closely, knowing she knew he was staring yet unwilling to tear his gaze away. And with every drink he consumed he grew bolder, braver, and when she stood and wove her way through the nightly crowd to enter the back hallway it was animal instinct that drove him off of his seat to stride after her.

He caught her arm just as she reached for the back exit door, whirling her about and slamming her against the wall. The ferocious curse she'd been about to unleash died on her lips as she stared up at him, green eyes wide with first surprise, and then something akin to hunger. For a moment all he did was regard her, taking in the little things he'd been noticing for sometime now but had never been close enough to observe with this sort of awe he found himself besieged with. And when she lifted one hand to brush at the wayward tendrils of his blazing red hair he noticed it was shaking, and that alone triggered something alien within him that he was almost afraid to read into. He caught her hand in his own, turning it over and placing the softest of kisses into her palm; the small gasp that left her parted lips incited his blood to fire.

He claimed her lips then, lowering his head that slight distance and doing what he'd longed to do for oh so long. She met his fervor with a heat of her own, tongue darting over his own in a manner that made him groan. When he drew away, breathing hard, she asked him with the ghost of the grin he so knew so well, "Why tonight?"

He dropped his head again to lick a hot trail from the pulse in her neck to her ear, delighting in the sound she made, and when he answered it was in a voice thick with promise, with wild abandon. "Why not?"

She made no reply, for none was needed. She threaded her fingers through his hair and placed feathery kisses along the line of his jaw; he groaned and pressed himself against her, wanting and needing, knowing that she wanted and needed as well. And when he pulled her swiftly with him, one hand tight on her wrist out the back door, she didn't fight.

This was what she wanted.

**xxx**


End file.
